


The first time they get caught

by opposablethumbs



Series: A week of firsts [6]
Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M, Semi-public making-out, Tony is going to want to get his Sedan reupholstered, Who the Hell is Bucky?, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 05:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opposablethumbs/pseuds/opposablethumbs
Summary: Steve and Bucky drive out into the hills for some... alone time. One problem. They're not alone.





	The first time they get caught

“Mmm, Buck.” **  
**

“Steve. Stevey. Like that.”

“Lemme… lemme get your shirt off.”

“Just don’t… mmm, ha ha… rip it this time.”

The back of a modest-sized, if luxury, sedan, is not necessarily the place one might expect two hundred-year-old super-soldiers to choose to make out. And that’s… kinda the point. In the old days, the only place they dared have sex was the apartment’s small bathroom; taps running full to cover for Steve’s loud mouth. Now, they don’t have to hide. Not their relationship, at least. Maybe the fact that Bucky’s shirt is now off and Steve’s mouth is teasing his nipples, and they’re grinding their hard cocks together through their clothing isn’t something they want on public display.

Which is where the sedan comes in. It’s size makes it inconspicuous and the blacked-out windows are Stark proprietary privacy glass, guaranteed to turn away even the most prying of eyes. But the thrill is still there. A midnight drive out of the city, the stars growing brighter as the lights fade away. A secluded spot, a concealed turnout. Kissing each other breathless in the front seat but for hopping into the back. It’s a squeeze: Steve’s weight pressing him against the butter-soft leather upholstery, one leg thrown over Steve’s shoulder and the other rammed in the footwell. But, hell, if Steve keeps kissing him like that, and touching him like that, and fucking up against him like that, Bucky’s pretty sure neither of them is going to need to get out of their pants anyhow. He’s already gasping, barely coherent, thighs trembling with each of Steve’s thrusts.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Bucky goes stock still. Steve, ever the more reckless of the two, ruts up against him hard and elicits a yelp.

“Shh…” Bucky squeaks even though he was the one making the noise.

Steve smirks down at him.

“I heard something,” Buck hisses. On cue, the tapping sounds again. Steve’s eyes go wide.

“Okay, open up in there,” comes a voice, muffled through the quadruple-reinforced glass. Bucky peeks over Steve’s shoulder, the window more yielding from the interior.

“It’s a cop,” Bucky whispers.

“You got your lights on and the engine running,” the cop says, “ain’t not point pretending there’s nobody home.”

Steve lunges headfirst back into the driver’s seat, scrambling to right himself. The car rocks slightly with his inertia.

“Y’know,” the cop says, “I get it. I was a youngster once. You got yourself a pretty girl, you drive her out here where mom and dad can’t see…”

“Jeez,” says Bucky to Steve, who has finally managed to turn himself the right way up and assume something like a respectable position. Or it would be respectable if his lips weren’t spit-shined, his hair mussed to hell or a raging boner quite obviously stretching out his pants.

The cop is still pontificating in his muted drawl. “All I need is t’check your license and send you on your way. We’ll chalk this one up to boys will be boys, alright son?”

Bucky snorts. “Boys’ll be boys, alright,” he says. It’s at that moment he realises his foot is stuck under the seat in front, wedged by Steve’s bulk flattening out the frame. “Oh shit,” he grumbles. With no other option presenting himself, he rolls into the footwell and attempts to veil himself in shadow.

Finally, Steve cracks the window just far enough for the officer to meet his eyes. “Um, hi,” he says.

“You got that license now, sonny?” the cop asks.

“Uhh…” Steve replies. He lets the window down another half inch, enough to hand his wallet over. “Here.”

The police officer flips it open and pulls the license out of the transparent holder. He studies it. Bucky can only see a diagonal slash of his face from the position he’s been forced to adopt. The officer absolutely has the moustache Bucky assumed.

“Is this a damn joke?” the officer says. “DOB 1917? Steven Grant Rogers?”

Bucky catches motion as the cop goes for his belt, reaching for a flashlight or a firearm, Bucky isn’t sure. He holds himself tense and silent.

“Window down,” the cop says, voice flat and hard. Steve obeys. A strobe of flashlight hits the dash.

“You think it’s funny to present a fake ID to an officer of the law? ‘Specially when you’re tryna pass yourself off as one of our nation’s greatest heroes. A lot of us guys in uniform look up to…”

The cop stops. The light has moved from the dash and onto Steve’s face.

“Ho-ly shit,” the officer says.

“Good evening, officer..?”

“Randolph,” the cop says breathily. “Joe Cephus Randolph. Is that… is that really you, sir? Captain. I mean…”

“It’s really me,” Steve assures. The cop hands back his wallet and offers his hand to shake which Steve of course does.

Buck almost can’t believe it. Steve goddam Rogers is going to try and brazen out getting caught sliding into second base by a police officer.

“Oh, gee. This is a real thrill,” the officer gushes. “I’m sorry for… well. You know. This turnout sees a lot of people using it for getting frisky in, so we keep a watch on it from the highway.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Steve agrees.

“So, uh… if I can ask…”

Bucky knows exactly what he’s about to ask.

“…what brings Captain America out here in the middle of the night?”

 _Lie, Steve_ , Bucky thinks.

“Umm…”

It’s not a great start.

“We got a tip about something going down here tonight,” Steve says. “Villains, you know.”

The officer nods wisely. “Hey, but wouldn’t you be better taking cover in the bushes or some such?” he suggests.

“Hiding in plain sight,” Steve replies, and Bucky nearly loses it at the seriousness in his tone. “I was taught that by Natasha Romanoff.”

A little gasp escapes the officer. “The Black Widow,” he says in awe. “Hey!” he adds, suddenly excited again. “You said ‘we’. Is she… I mean Widow, or, uh… Ms Romanoff, here too?” Once again the flashlight is streaking into the car, probing deeper. Bucky is good at not being seen, but even he has his limits. He decides to exert the last measure of control he has over the situation and sits up.

“Hello Joe,” he says smoothly.

The flashlight hits him square in the face then travels to his chest. Then it’s back on Steve’s face. And Bucky again. And finally settling on Steve.

“Uhh…” Officer Joe Randolph says.

“He’s my… back-up,” Steve relies, entirely unconvincingly.

“Uh huh. And why’s he got no shirt on?”

Steve’s hesitation is longer and even more suspicious. “Stealth body armour?” is his eventual offering. Bucky drops his face into his hands.

“Ah, okay,” the cop says, his flashlight going out. “I’ve had that, uh, sensitivity training. And it’s… really you.”

“It’s really me,” Steve agrees, a tired echo of the earlier statement.

“I’m… gonna honour what I said earlier,” Randolph says after a pause. “No write up, just a warning. You and, uh, your guy there just head on home and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened. None of it,” he repeats more forcefully. The torch goes out.

“Thank you, Officer,” Steve says. He shifts his weight in his seat and Bucky mercifully manages to free his deadening foot from the pinch of metal. Bucky slides up and onto the back seat, shirt scrunched in his lap.

“Appreciate it,” Bucky agrees.

The cop gets back into his car and drives away, puffs of dirt from the loose surface billowing in the sedan’s beaming headlights.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Bucky takes the opportunity to pull his shirt back on and button it up.

“He had no idea who I was,” he grumbles at last.

Steve chokes and then breaks into laughter. “Oh my god,” he says. “ _That’s_  your take-home?”

Bucky shrugs as best as he can while stooping, stepping over the central pillar and flopping into the front passenger seat. “How about you just take  _me_  home?” he suggests.

“That I can do,” Steve says with a sigh.

Bucky nudges him with his shoulder as Steve pulls off. “Hey,” he says supportively. “You wanna do it in the great big bed Stark got us for your birthday?”

Steve changes up a gear. “Yes,” he replies, only a little bit sullen-sounding. “Yes I do.”


End file.
